We can feed off each other

...And he keeps on writing.
The page is moving oddly as he scribbles on the poor sheet.

We've been sitting in this room a couple of months and mostly doing nothing. I hope we won't waste too much time here, this is senseless.

His hand is just going on, I don't think I've seen it stop, I don't really understand... I'm really much too short, my legs don't even touch the floor when i'm sitting on the bed. Just one foot hanging off, swaying, yeah. He likes my legs.

He keeps on writing.
...His hand moves really fast. I wonder how he can keep track...
The chair stays still, his body is completely motionless, it's just his arm... like an earthquake on the little table.

I don't like to witness this all. I don't like to stay aside like this.

Like an earthquake on the little table, the legs are trembling, the legs are shaking the whole thing is bouncing up and down and the wood of the floor is dismantling now, the whole room moving from side to side

I have a hard time holding on to the bed.

The shaking stops. The pencil falls on the floor. He stands up without a glance at me, and walks to the corner of the room... seems to stop and think for a minute, I think I've seen his eyes wet... I think I've seen a tear. He walks out the door.

I step off the bed, walk up to the little table, and i finally look at the sheet of paper... And it simply says...